Episode 96
EPISODE 96
STRAWBERRIES AND SNAKES
Sebastian
So far, working with Ariel has been a hoot. She’s such a sweet little innocent—except she’s not.
Not after our little tryst this morning. I was surprised she and I were paired together for this thing, and it makes me wonder if Evie knows something about our antics in my suite. Not that I care. That’s what I’m here for—to get to know all the women.
River is paired up with June. How will he feel about that vajazzled pussy? Hell, for all I know, he’s already seen it.
But thinking of Riv makes me think about what I have to tell him later about the break-in at his parents’ house. Has Monica tried to call him here? If so, I can’t see it in his face. Then again, River never really looks on top of the world. He’s got that brooding darkness around him all the time, even when he’s having a great time.
Damn.
Why can’t Shelley just tell him?
Ariel stands next to Marc and whisks the ingredients for the coleslaw dressing. Her pert little tush moves back and forth as she stirs. I can’t help ogling her for a few seconds, until?—
“Alex!” Heather squeals.
I dart my gaze toward the duo. They’re working with Chef, making dessert, which is… I have no idea, but they’re peeling sweet potatoes over a basin and Alex just gave Heather’s ass a smack.
Yeah, not liking that.
Heather has pulled her hair up into a loose bun, which is sexy as hell, though I can’t figure out why. Her hair is the shortest of all the women, so the blue tips are falling out of the bun, framing her face as she wipes sweat off her forehead.
Damn.
I almost forgot.
Alex and Heather hooked up on the catamaran for the “orgasm without touch” game. By the way she’s gazing at him adoringly, I’m thinking it must have been good for both of them.
They’re teasing each other and laughing together, and despite myself, the heat of jealousy creeps into my gut.
“Oh!” Heather cries as she splashes something—I’m not sure what—onto her skin-tight blue tank.
Alex murmurs something to her before he helps her pull an apron over her head and then ties it behind her back, pausing to slide his hand over her bare thigh.
Damn him, anyway.
Back to the garlic. I’m not a huge cook, but when I do prepare dinner for myself—which is rare, these days, as I have a dedicated staff—I never skimp on the garlic. No such thing as too much. I press the flat of the knife blade over a clove of garlic, but I push too hard. The clove is completely mashed. I pick the papery skin off it and shove it to the side.
Still, I can’t help glancing toward Heather. They’ve finished peeling the sweet potatoes, and now they’re grating them by hand. Has Chef never heard of a food processor?
But damn… As she grates, I can’t help gawking at the defined lines of her well-toned arms. She and Alex are laughing together, and I have no idea what they’re saying, but they seem to be having a hell of a good time.
I’ve got to stop.
I have no claim on Heather. Last night with her was paradise, but the memory of it didn’t stop me from fucking Ariel into oblivion this morning.
Why should I expect Heather to be any different? This is what we’re here for, after all.
I flatten and peel the rest of the garlic cloves and then I take a sharp knife and trim off the hard end where the clove was attached to the bulb. I slice each clove, gather all the slices together, and rock my knife back and forth over them to mince the garlic. As the oils are released, the savory aroma drifts over me, making my mouth water.
I love garlic, but it’s not the only thing making my mouth water.
Heather is still grating sweet potatoes and looking luscious doing it, and Alex is standing so close to her they may as well be conjoined twins. Jesus fuck!
Marc looks over my shoulder. “Great job on the garlic, Sebastian. Now do the scotch bonnet pepper so we can get this shrimp marinading.”
“What’s the dessert tonight?” I ask.
Marc laughs. “It’s hell a top, hell a bottom, hallelujah in the middle.”
I look at him like he’s got two heads. “Say what?”
“Traditional sweet potato pudding.” He continues chuckling. “Hell a top and hell a bottom implies baking with the heat above and below, with the result in the middle being perfect—or hallelujah.”
“O…kay.”
“I don’t know where that phrase comes from, but it’s apt. Sweet potato pudding is delicious. I was hoping I’d get that one, but Chef Pierre decided he wanted to work on dessert tonight since he doesn’t get to do that very often.”
“I see.” I glance again at Heather, who’s still working on the grating. Damn, she’s hot.
Marc hands me something that looks like an orange bell pepper that’s been miniaturized.
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s a scotch bonnet pepper. A staple in Jamaican cooking. I need you to seed it and chop it. Keep those gloves on, and be careful. Don’t touch your eyes. You’ll be sorry.”
“So it’s a hot pepper?”
“Hotter than Hades, man. Just chop it finely, and then we’ll add the other ingredients and get those shrimps marinating for a few minutes before we sauté them.”
“Got it.” I cut the pepper in half and scoop out the tiny seeds. “You don’t look so scary,” I say to the pepper as I dice it into small pieces.
Marc is helping Ariel pour her dressing over the cabbage he sliced. She uses tongs to toss it, and?—
“Oh!” A heap of coleslaw plops onto the kitchen tile. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not a problem.” Marc scoops up the cabbage with his gloved hand and for a moment I think he’s going to toss it back into the bowl. He doesn’t, thank God. It goes into the sink.
“Will we still have enough?” Ariel asks.
“We’ll have plenty.” Marc smiles at her.
Ariel’s cheeks redden, and man, is she a pretty thing. Just as sexy as Heather but in a totally different way. In fact, I need to concentrate more on my little strawberry with cream. Heather is obviously otherwise occupied, and Ariel is my partner for this event.
I walk closer to her. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah. I’m such a klutz, though.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re adorable.”
“An adorable klutz.” She continues tossing.
“I think that’s good.” Marc takes the bowl of coleslaw. “I’ll put this in the refrigerator to stay fresh. How’s that marinade, Sebastian?”
“I think it’s ready.” I toss the rest of the pepper into the mixture along with the chopped garlic as I wipe some sweat from my forehead. “Just toss it over the shrimp?”
Marc nods. “Yup. Make sure it’s good and coated, and then we’ll let it sit for a few before we sauté it with a little more garlic.”
“What will we do now, Marc?” Ariel asks innocently. “Everyone else is still working.”
“We got off easy, didn’t we?” Marc grins. “It just so happens that I’ve arranged a rum tasting to pass the time.”
Ariel’s pretty brown eyes widen. “A rum tasting? Like Bacardi?”
Marc’s face twists into something I don’t recognize, but then I do. He’s trying not to laugh. Bacardi sucks.
“Nope,” Marc finally says. “This is way better than Bacardi. We’ll start with Appleton Reserve Blend and then also try Blackwell Black Gold.”
“You mean you’re not going to make it into pina coladas?” Ariel asks.
“Never,” Marc says. “This is sipping rum. You like rum, Sebastian?”
“I’m more of a bourbon man, but sure, let’s try some rum.”
“Great. I’ve got it all set up out on the deck. We’ll try both rums, and when we’re done, the shrimp will be ready to sauté.”
Ariel and I follow Marc out onto the deck, where a small table and chairs are set up.
He holds up a pear-shaped bottle of amber liquid. “This is the Appleton Reserve Blend, one of my personal favorites. It’s full-bodied and balanced. You should be able to taste notes of vanilla, nutmeg, and light citrus.” He pours three shot glasses and slides two of them in front of Ariel and me. “Don’t shoot it. Sip it.”
Ariel picks up her glass. “Cheers!” She takes a small sip. Her forehead wrinkles, and she takes another drink.
“Different from Bacardi?” I take a sip of mine.
“I don’t drink Bacardi like this,” Ariel says, “but, you know… I like it. I’m not sure I taste vanilla and cardamom, or whatever, but it’s smooth on my tongue and not harsh going down.”
Marc smiles at Ariel, and I’m not a fan of how he’s flirting with her, which is ridiculous because we told all the staff members to make the ladies feel welcome and attractive. I expect them to flirt a little.
But that spike of jealousy from earlier? It’s back, and this time it's directed at a different woman.
I take another sip and give Ariel another look.
Does strawberries and cream beat a sexy viper?
I’m honestly not sure. Why choose when I may be able to have both?
I might just be hungry for a sandwich later…